


Mortala

by CuriousRebel



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Death, Fighting, Gangs, Gen, Sad, Violence, but it's good, everyone dies, i think, terrible ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 21:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15782226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousRebel/pseuds/CuriousRebel
Summary: There is a fight.Connor is desperate.He wants to find Hank.Is this where their story ends?





	Mortala

**Author's Note:**

> I've been really looking forward to writing this. It's sad and it's bad but I hope you enjoy!

It was bad.   
Flashing lights, blue and red, Connor’s vision was tunnelled, and he focused solely on running towards the point where the two gangs had met in battle, with kitchen knives and broken bottles and stolen batons as weapons.   
They slashed and hit out and swung violently, not caring who they hit.   
The swarm of police officers seemed to do the opposite as intended. The whole fight became uglier and uglier the more people that became involved.   
Gang members dressed in black vs police officers dressed in blue.   
Gang vs gang vs police.   
It was brutal.   
But Connor wasn’t a prototype police investigator android for nothing. He kept his focus in a way the other officers couldn’t.   
They had confidence that he could manage to calm the fight down, or at least chase some of the gang members away. He didn’t fear them after all. He didn’t fear anything.   
But Connor did fear. He feared shutting down, and he feared for Hank’s life every time he saw a glint of metal or the shine of a baton’s plastic. He feared failing, too, so he tried desperately, lion-heartedly to win this fight.   
But he was scared. His processors were fried with overloading information. A swing here, a jab there, where did that other guy go? Is that an officer or a gang member? Hank?  
More police cruisers arrived and added their sirens to the cacophony of sound, using their lights to amp up the confusing alternating blue and red that swathed the world.   
The gangs seem to be thinning out, and Connor was relieved, so relieved-  
And then four black vans swung into the abandoned dock and their sliding doors rushed open with terrifying scraping sounds as the metal runners ran along one another.  
And Connor saw a different sheen. The black, sleek sheen of guns glinting in the moonlight. Connor stood horrified as ten men emptied out of the vans onto the tarmac, each one holding an automatic rifle. Rifles with bullets that could tear through flesh, even his, bullets that would tear through muscles and probably propel themselves straight through the other side of someone’s body.   
Connor swung round to search through the mess of the fight, not thinking of his safety but looking, looking, searching, where is he?   
“Lieutenant!” Connor called, and saw a familiar head turn just in time to hear the first gun start firing.  
The chaos was instantly doubled as people began to fall and scream, then tripled as people began to run. But the gangs were running towards the police they were just fighting, and the police who were running to their cars got tangled up with the officers trying to grab members while they could, and it was such a crushing mess that it gave the bullets perfect targets to aim for as they left the safety of their chambers.   
Connor was hit badly. He’d been shot seven times, four of which were in critical places. He was covered in thirium, stumbling towards where he last saw his partner, his shoes slick with the blood on the floor.   
And at last he clapped eyes on the Lieutenant. And at last he stumbled and fell. Because his partner was also splattered with blood, and Connor knew without even needing to get close that it was his own.   
Warnings flashed up in his vision, and he attempted to physically wave them away, and mumbled,” Stop, stop, no, Hank-“   
And cleaning fluid was leaking from his eyes and for a moment he wondered why and then he didn’t care and then he collapsed in a pool of his own blood-  
And he scraped his wounds and remaining skin against the cement as he clawed towards his partner-  
“Hank…I need help…”  
His hand, bathed in blue, reached desperately for his partner’s red stained fingers-  
“Hank…please…I don’t want you to go…”  
Want-?  
He was a deviant, and he was releasing it too late-   
And it was too late-  
He wanted-

 

CONNOR MODEL # 313 248 317 -51 SHUTTING DOWN

RK800 DEACTIVATED

 

//Goodnight_Connor//

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you thought x


End file.
